


Come Undone

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: Laura has never known this kind of longing.





	Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [margotgrissom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/margotgrissom/gifts).



> Written for the Alphabet Challenge, with the prompt L is for Longing. I hope you enjoy -- comments are everything.

When realization hit her, it hit hard. It happened on an ordinary morning on New Caprica, the mist and the gray morning light filtering in through the open flaps of her school tent. Laura was standing by the chalkboard, writing looping directions for an assignment about Sagitaron history. The smell of the chalky powder was comforting, reminding her of days of old on Caprica, back when she was a teacher by trade. Life had been simpler then; there had been no annihilation of her race, no quick ascent into the highest political office, no deadly disease eating away at her body before becoming eradicated just as quickly. She had just been Laura, schoolteacher, sister, daughter, lover. 

She had not been startled to hear quick footsteps stop at her tent -- since their arrival on New Caprica, this tent had hosted many passersby ranging from former presidential staff to viper mechanics to unknown citizens that wanted to pay their respects. She had turned, expectant and pleased for the welcome intrusion, only to lose her breath. 

Kara Thrace had stood there, her body framed by the brilliant gray light, a wide smile on her effortlessly beautiful face. Her long yellow hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, though a few loose strands had stuck to a sweat-damp forehead. She wore her viper uniform tanks, fitted snugly to her body, and a pair of very short shorts. Her long, tan legs had been a sight to behold. The solid form of her muscular, feminine body had hit Laura like the violent jolt just before an FTL jump. She had exhaled, slowly, counting to ten, grounding her body to the dirt floor of her makeshift schoolhouse.

“Hey, Madam Prez,” Kara had said, grinning. “I was out for a run and I thought I’d stop by.” 

Laura had blushed, turning away to hide the color in her cheeks, as she replaced the chalk. “Kara, please call me Laura. I’m not the President anymore.” 

The younger woman rolled her eyes disapprovingly, crossing her arms just beneath her full breasts. “Well, you should be.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “All right. Laura.” She had said her name slowly, as if savoring the taste on her tongue, and it had made Laura feel completely unmoored. 

It had been as simple as hearing a beautiful viper pilot say her name for Laura to come undone, to become consumed by such longing. 

Now that Kara is in Laura’s bed, that longing has not abated but has, perhaps, only increased tenfold. The younger woman is asleep, lying on her stomach with her arms folded beneath her pillow, the sheet tucked around her bare waist. Laura is propped on her side, mapping the freckles and scars with her eyes. She follows the dip of her spine with a steady gaze, memorizing every curve, every line, every flare of muscle. Kara is a work of art, a physical embodiment of strength and determination even in the set of her shoulders in repose. 

All of this in a world that is so very fragile. It occurs to her that it could all shatter in a moment -- the world, her heart, their lives. Nothing is guaranteed, not even the promise of more kisses, more tenderness, more gentle caresses, more perfect roughness. It could all be over in an instant, and Laura has learned her lesson. She’s a schoolteacher, after all. 

She leans down, peppering Kara’s bare shoulder with kisses. It is not long before Kara stirs, and Laura nips at the sinewy flesh beneath her lips. 

“I could get used to this kinda wake up call,” Kara says sleepily, turning her head to look at Laura. She blinks, and then she smiles. “Hey you.” 

“Hi.” 

“How long do we have?” The unasked question, of course, is _how long do we have until I go home to Sam and you go to the job you were forced to settle for?_

“We have time.” 

There will always be time -- until there isn’t -- and Laura is not interested in squandering what remains. 

They smile, mirroring each other’s relief, and lean in for a kiss that consumes them both. 

\---


End file.
